Dandelions
by TurtleTotem
Summary: The full story behind Jack and the Duchess's "lifelong love and wild romance," both before and after Alice Hamilton came into their lives.


**Designed to go with a fanmix, so comes with lyrics interspersed.  
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She was the Queen's pet project, a ragged orphan hardly old enough to dress herself, tattered and dirty but still the loveliest creature, said the Queen, that Wonderland had ever seen. Within moments of catching sight of the child on the street outside the Casino, the Queen had declared her a ward of the court. "What's your name, child?" the Queen asked, then without waiting for a reply, continued, "No matter. You are a Duchess now, and that is the only name you will need."

** Close ****to ****You ****- ****The ****Carpenters**

_On the day that you were born  
>The angels got together and decided<br>To create a dream come true  
>So they sprinkled moondust in your hair<br>Of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue_

The Queen found that her new pet cleaned up most satisfactorily, a miniature vision in curls and lace. She crowed over the child's beauty and her success in finding the prince a playmate worthy of his station, not seeming to notice that her new Duchess was trembling like a fawn.

The seven-year-old prince, stiff and quiet in his royal suit and jacket, stepped forward and took her hand. "Don't be scared," he said. "I'll look after you."

The Duchess's arrival heralded a new era in Jack's life, an age of laughter and singing and whispers and sneaking away from their tutors to go play in the grass. One day, as they held hands in the sleepy sunshine, staring up at the dandelions nodding above their heads, the Duchess told him her name.

"I want you to remember it for me," she said, "in case I forget. I almost forgot it the other day. I had to sit and think, and then I remembered it. Emilia. My mother called me Emilia." She sat up, startled, when Jack began to cry. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Why are you crying? Are you sad?"

"No. Yes." He sniffed, caught his breath, and sat up to take hold of both her hands. "Don't ever tell my mother your name. Try to forget it. You have to promise, okay? You have to promise to always do whatever she says. I've seen what happens to people who don't. Okay?"

"Okay," the Duchess said, bewildered. "Okay, I promise."

**Cherry ****Lips ****- ****Garbage**

_With __your __cherry __lips __and __golden __curls  
>You <em>_could __make __grown __men __gasp  
>When <em>_you'd __go __walking __past __them  
>In <em>_your __hot __pants __and __high __heels  
>They <em>_could __not __believe  
>That <em>_such __a __body __was __for __real  
>It <em>_seemed __like __rainbows __would __appear  
>Whenever <em>_you __came __near __the __clouds __would __disappear_

The Duchess seemed to grow more lovely with every month that passed, and she could not help but know it. The Queen, of course, gloated over her beauty as if it were entirely her own doing, but even aside from that, people treated her differently-the suits, the servants, even the King, all were kinder and gentler to her because she was beautiful. Even Jack was not immune. It never escaped the Duchess's memory for long that she was here, that she was a Duchess, that she was loved and pampered, that she was _alive _- only because she was beautiful.

It had pleased the Queen at first to see Jack and her pretty pet so inseparable, but by the time the children were ten, she began to see the Duchess as a rival for her son's affections. Jack had known it would happen, had already seen what became of any nanny or tutor whom he failed to keep at arm's length. It frightened him to see the cold, calculating eyes the Queen turned on the Duchess, more and more often, when she saw them together. He coached the Duchess, more than ever, to do whatever was necessary not to cross the Queen.

It worked, he supposed, because the Duchess was permitted to keep her head. But she was sent away, "to school," the Queen said. They sent letters, secretly, frantically, flurries of them - then fewer. One day Jack realized that, although he still thought of her constantly, he had neither sent nor received a letter in almost a year.

When they were eighteen, the Duchess was finally welcomed home, her "education" complete. It was only then, seeing her sway into the throne room with more paint on her face than fabric on her body, that Jack realized exactly what sort of school she had been sent to.

**From ****the ****Inside ****- ****Linkin ****Park**

_Trying __not __to __break __but __I__'__m __so __tired __of __this __deceit  
>Every <em>_time __I __try __to __make __myself __get __back __up__on __my __feet  
>All <em>_I __ever __think __about __is __this  
>All <em>_the __tiring __time __between  
>And <em>_how __trying __to __put __my __trust __in __you __just __takes __so __much __out __of __me  
>Take <em>_everything __from __the __inside __and __throw __it __all __away  
>Cuz <em>_I __swear __for __the __last __time __I __won__'__t __trust __myself __with __you_

He tried to convince himself she was still the same underneath, still his Emilia. Tried to rationalize or simply ignore the things that bothered him, the new hardness in her eyes, the calculation in her voice, the flirtations and games, the rumors about Resistance sympathetizers seduced and betrayed. This last was more than a mere personal concern, though Jack trusted that, since he was still alive, his mother had no suspicion as to where her son's allegiance now lay.

_It's __just __rumors_, he told himself. _This __whole __bloody __court __loves __to __spin __castles __out __of __cobwebs. __You've __known __her __almost __all __your __life. __If __you __can't __trust __her, __then __who __can __you __trust_?

And she did seem more herself when they were alone together, able to laugh and talk and touch his arm like when they were children. She volunteered very little about her years at "school," and he didn't ask. If, once or twice, he caught her watching him with a strange expression - something like sorrow, or hunger, or hope, or despair - he didn't ask about that, either.

His mother made no attempt to come between them - seemed, in fact, to encourage their time together. That alone should have told him something was wrong.

He proposed to her in the same field of dandelions where they had played as children, and held her close while she wept for joy. Surely it was only for joy.

He woke in the night and she was gone. His feet, perhaps knowing something the rest of him did not, carried him to his mother's chamber, where light gleamed through the keyhole. If he leaned in close, he could hear voices. The Duchess's voice.

"He proposed, just as you said he would. He trusts me completely."

"Excellent," said the Queen. "Of course I'm not surprised. Anyone could see how he dotes on you. You should have no problem controlling him, but I have a variety of helpful teas, just in case."

Jack walked very calmly back to his own room. Some minutes later, a small crew of maids was woken and called to the prince's chamber, where they found someone had smashed absolutely everything that was breakable. All of it cleaned up and replaced, the prince apparently asleep in his bed, when the Duchess slipped back through the door.

**A ****Lonely ****September ****- ****Plain ****White ****T's**

_Oh, __I __didn't __mean __for __this __to __go __as __far __as __it __did  
>And <em>_I __didn't __mean __to __get __so __close __and __share __what __we __did  
>And <em>_I __didn't __mean __to __fall __in __love, __but __I __did  
>And <em>_you __didn't __mean __to __love __me __back  
>But <em>_I __know __you __did_

Courting Alice Hamilton was supposed to be a mission, a job. A task undertaken for the sake of his kingdom. He was prepared to charm her even if she were nasty, stupid, grotesquely ugly. She was not. She was clever, kind, even pretty, in her understated oyster way. And she was _fun._She made him laugh, play, do wild and impulsive things without worrying about what effect it would have on his court alliances or how his mother could use it against him. She liked him without having any idea that he was more than a clumsy karate student from a well-to-do family. It did not take long for his attentions to become perfectly sincere. In fact, she made it possible, for days at a time, to very nearly forget why he was here.

Until the White Rabbit caught up with him.

**Give ****You ****Back ****- ****Vertical ****Horizon**

_I __need __to __know __if __you __were __real  
>'Cause <em>_I've __been __known __to __get __it __wrong  
>When <em>_the __memory __comes  
>I'll <em>_say __I'm __always __in __the __dark  
>You <em>_got __me __now  
>I <em>_want __to __give __you __back  
>I <em>_want __to __give __you __back_

Jack had convinced himself that it was entirely over between him and the Duchess, even if she didn't know it. The girl he had loved, the girl who had loved _him_, was gone. What remained was only one more of his mother's puppets. It was so easy, when he was with Alice, to believe he cared nothing at all for the painted harlot he called "fiancee."

Until he was dragged back to Wonderland, bruised and shackled, and there she was, beautiful as sunlight despite the stripper's garb.

"How _dare_ you treat your prince like a common pickpocket?" she snapped, eyes flashing. "Take off these chains at once. You, bring the prince his clothes. How long do you think you would live if the Queen could see her son right now?" She slapped one suit across the face when he did not move fast enough; the rest scurried to obey. "Oh, Jack, darling," she murmured, dropping to her knees at his side, running one lovely hand through his hair. "I've been so worried. Are you all right?"

Jack didn't answer. _I __wish __I __could __believe __you __meant __a __word __of __that_. _And __even __more, __I __wish __I_ didn't _wish __to __believe __you._

_But __I __do_.

**Ghosts ****of ****a ****Future ****Lost ****(Clint ****Mansell, **_**Requiem **__**for **__**a **__**Dream **_**Soundtrack)**

_[instrumental]_

Seeing Alice with that half-cocked double-dealing tea-shop cur gave Jack the most blistering case of jealousy he could ever remember. He cut the rascal down as mercilessly as he could without actually putting him to the sword. Yet, when he and Alice were finally alone together... something was wrong. She was still the Alice he had loved, he _did_ still love her, but... the words came out of his mouth as dry and flat as toast. He couldn't bring himself to kiss her, touch her, embrace her joyfully as he had expected he would, as _she_ clearly expected he would. Because it wasn't Alice's face he kept seeing behind his eyelids. The whole mad storm he had repressed so ruthlessly and so long had found a safe target in Hatter. He was ashamed to know he had abused and humiliated a valuable member of the Resistance (whatever that idiot Dodo might say), not because he was jealous of Alice, but because he was jealous of the Duchess.

**Dance ****with ****the ****Devil ****(Breaking ****Benjamin)**

_Here I stand, helpless and left for dead._

_..._

_Trembling, crawling across my skin.  
>Feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine.<br>..._

_Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight._

It wasn't as if Jack hadn't had the eyes of the kingdom on him all his life. He wasn't sure why it would bother him so bloody much tonight. Sure, they were creepy and annoying, all the eyes of various shapes and sizes popping in and out as everyone in Wonderland tuned in to see the disgraced prince. But they shouldn't have been enough to break his self-control and turn him into a chair-hurling madman. Why had he allowed them to get under his skin?

_Possibly __because __none __of __it __will __bloody __matter __when __I'm __executed __in __the __morning __and __the __whole __Resistance __goes __down __in __flames, __with __poor __Caterpillar __dead, __Hatter __and __Dodo __to __follow __and __how __many __hundred __others, __leaving __my __mother __to __run __Wonderland __into __the __ground __for __another __few __decades_-

Then there was the Duchess, already in mourning black, talking about cars and disguises and bribed guards. And at first all he could think was _What __more __is __Mother __going __to __do __to __me? __Is __this __her __last __little __joke? _

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" She seemed more sorrowful than surprised at his suspicion. "I care about you, Jack. I always have."

"Oh, come on. You're working for my mother."

"I did what I had to do to survive!"

And wasn't he the one, so many years ago, who told her to do whatever it took to placate the Queen? Could he really blame her for listening?

**Don't ****Let ****Me ****Stop ****You ****(Kelly ****Clarkson)**

_This __is __gonna __sound __kind __of __silly  
>But <em>_I __couldn't __help __but __notice_  
><em> The <em>_last __time __you __kissed __me  
>You <em>_kept __both __eyes __open  
>Baby <em>_can __you __tell __me __what __does __that __mean  
>If <em>_you're __looking __over __your __shoulder  
>Then <em>_you __don't __need __to __be __with __me  
>And <em>_I __don't __need __to __hold __on_

It's a practical decision, proposing to Alice when it's all over. Whatever his personal feelings may be for the Duchess, he and she have a long way to go. At this point, he can't truly even call them friends, much less put her on the throne beside him. Alice will make a good queen-responsible, compassionate, and sensible. Not to mention he owes her his kingdom; the least he can do is offer to share. He knows he can trust her, and he knows he can live with her - in fact, the more he remembers their time together in her world, he more he convinces himself he wants her to say yes. Her refreshing common sense and easy, playful manner - it won't be at all hard to be married to Alice.

But when the words leave his mouth, he knows he desperately wants her to say no. No, she wants to go home. No, she wants to marry Hatter. No, she's swearing off men forever. Any excuse will do. When she actually _does_ say no, it hurts a little, because it's the death of a future. A good future.

But not the best possible future. He knows that because Alice is hardly through the mirror before he's running out of the room, down corridors, up and down endless stairs - it's a long way to the makeshift chambers arranged for the nobility displaced by the casino's fall, but he runs the whole way to the Duchess's rooms.

**Season ****of ****Love ****(Shiny ****Toy ****Guns)**

_Crazy __with __it  
>Crazier <em>_without  
>Never <em>_certain  
>Never <em>_full __of __doubt  
>Now <em>_you __feel __it  
>Now <em>_you __don't  
>Do <em>_you __know __what __you're __feeling_

He burst through the door, then just stood there, too breathless to speak and feeling quite silly. She stared at him, waiting, twisting something in her hands. She was hardly recognizable, not a trace of make-up on her face, wrapped in a a thin blue tunic that actually covered her chest and even her shoulders.

He had never seen anything more beautiful.

"I told them not to tell you I was going," she said at last.

"Going?" he said, and realized there was a small travelling bag on the bed behind her. "Going where, for heaven's sake?"

"I haven't decided."

"But - but you're a Duchess, you can't just _go_-"

"Of course I can. Besides, you know I'm no Duchess, I don't belong here. Especially now. I'm the last person Queen Alice is going to want around."

"Alice turned me down, Emilia. And I came here to tell you how glad I am that she did."

"What did you call me?"

Not to the reaction he was expecting. "...Emilia?"

She let out a half-choked laugh, then sank onto the floor at the foot of the bed, laughing and sobbing, with her knees drawn up to her chest like a little girl. "That's my name. That's my name. I'd forgotten it."

"You asked me to remember it for you." He knelt beside her on the floor, put his arms around her. "Please don't go, Emilia, please stay with me."

She cried harder, hugging him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Please, Emilia, please say you'll stay. Maybe things can never be exactly the way they were, but maybe they can, maybe they can be better, maybe a person doesn't have to go to Oysterland to relax with someone, I know we can learn to trust each other again and believe in each other and _play_-"

She stopped his words with a kiss. And now he could feel that the thing she had been twisting in her hands was a dandelion.


End file.
